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The kiss comes like a summer rain.
Slow and quiet, then suddenly it’s a rush of pure adrenaline drenching me as his lips take mine, possess me, drown me in a world that’s nothing but Grant.
Here, there are no worries.
I can’t be sad or stressed or afraid. Not when his arms wind around me this tight and his beard tickles my throat.
The raw, rough taste of him melts against my lips like the warmest salted caramel.
I’m so hard-wired with need that I moan almost instantly, some hot tight core inside me knotting up even as the rest of me goes loose and melty with desire.
His shoulders feel so strong under my palms, manly muscle stretched over iron bones.
I can feel his heartbeat against that powerful barrel chest, a wild thudding that echoes my own—and for a moment that tender, slow kiss turns thieving and renders me breathless, so powerful my knees go out and my whole being ignites.
Holy hell.
When we break apart, I’m panting.
Clutching my trembling fingers in his jacket and looking up at him in a daze.
He’s sohandsome, and the evening light flutters in his dark eyes like moths searching for a gold-lit heaven.
“Inside?” I whisper hopefully.
Please say yes.
This ache for him that’s built inside me my entire life might tear me apart.
Grant’s only answer is a loud, needy growl before he pulls away and practically breaks his house key, jamming it into the lock like a man possessed.
I bite back a giggle, covering my mouth with my hand.
I feel like a giddy little girl again, knowing he wants methatmuch.
And that feeling only intensifies when he gives me a familiar dirty, disgusted look. But it’s also so much more now.
There’s no mistaking what’s underneath, coursing like blood.
That smolder.
The same heat that burns incessantly in my core and trembles through me as he shoves the door open and pulls me inside the dark house.
God, I want him right here, right now, but I don’t want the anticipation to end.
As I slip past him, I deliberately pull away just out of his reach, backing toward the steps and loving how intensely he looks at me.
The man stalks after me like a hunter and fills me with a thrill.
This big, powerful beast—and I’ve practically got him on a leash, drawing him after me with every step.
“You wanna play games, Butterfly?” he rumbles, his voice scorched.
“Maybe I just want to be civilized,” I tease, reaching back to find the stair rail and guiding myself up the first few steps. “At least use the bed. Don’t make me beg you to take me over the back of the sofa like a heathen.”
His expression darkens deliciously as his eyes rake me from head to toe.
“Ophelia, fuck,” he snarls. “There ain’t a goddamned thing civilized about what I’m about to do to you.”
